


tethered

by broken_halleluiah



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Drabble, Family, Gen, Pre-Series, Really nothing special but I like it so I'll share, Sibling bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_halleluiah/pseuds/broken_halleluiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka wanders off the beaten path to find a moment of peace from Katara's nagging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tethered

Sokka tests his fingers, flexing them against the chill seeping through the lining of his gloves, before he pries open the last trap on his circuit. Nestled at the bottom of an icy ridge, it’s sheltered from the wind is a way that feels almost stifling. He stuffs the last catch of the day, a gamey-looking leopard-fox cub, into his satchel and glances back over his shoulder at the plume of smoke rising from the village he’s returned to every single night of his life. He isn’t ready to go back yet.

Cresting the ridge with crackling steps, Sokka tosses his satchel down and sits beside it, tucking his hands in his armpits to warm them. Below him, the ocean stretches out to meet the sky, an untameable crystal-blue tundra.

The first time he took in this view, he can remember how his toddling limbs, clumsy in bulky winter gear, were yanked back from the edge by a leather band cinched around his middle. His father clutched the other end of the tether, hollering warnings, ensuring that his exploration didn’t lead him over the edge into the sea foam. His mother stood nearby, cradling Katara in her arms. Even then, the tide was probably whispering things to her that he couldn’t hear. 

Ten years later, he can still feel the leather band knotted around his gut, but now his sister grasps the other end and never really stops tugging at it. The snow crunches beneath her as she follows his footprints, her already shrill voice, sharpened with irritation, rising above the whistle of the wind.

“--had better be on your way  _ back  _ and not on your way out, mister. I swear, if Gran-Gran finds out you wandered off without telling  _ anybody  _ where you were going while you were  _ supposed  _ to be--”

He wordlessly lifts his satchel, full to bursting, and drops it again, allowing the contents to spill out across the snow. Despite his careless gesture, Katara lets her scolding die away as she takes in the sight of the heavy bag, the matching heaviness of his head as he drops his chin to his knees. He keeps his gaze fixed over the water as she sits beside him, folding her legs beneath her.

“What happened to the big hurry, Your Royal Timeliness?”

She scowls at him. “I didn't know you were already finished. Lay off.”

“Oh yes,  _ I'll _ quit nagging  _ you.  _ My humblest apologies.”

Katara shoves his shoulder. “I haven't been up here in ages, either.” And then she turns her attention back to the view, releasing a long, whistling breath. “Wow.”

An arctic bird splashes down and wrenches a wriggling fleck of silver out of the water. It careens upward again with the fish in its grasp, adjusting its course toward the passage between the frosted mountain peaks on the horizon.

“Yup,” Sokka agrees. “Wow.”

On the other side of the pass lies an ocean exploding with heat and light, an ocean he hasn’t seen, that he won’t ever see, that so many don’t return from. An ocean his father’s ship is bobbing on or sunk in. The bird winks out of sight again.

“I wish I was there with him,” Sokka murmurs.

“You wish he was here with us,” Katara corrects, a soft chiding in her tone. She  _ corrects  _ the deepest desire of his heart the moment he speaks it aloud, like she can’t help herself.

Sokka sneers at her. “Don’t tell me what I wish, woman.”

He doesn’t tell her that she’s right as she  _ always  _ thinks she is, that more than being able to wrench free from the tether around his own waist, he wants to tug on the chord binding his father to them, to pull him out of the flames unscathed, to reel him back across the sea.

Katara moves her fingers with the ebb and flow of the waves, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps tugging at them with every bit of power she possesses. She lets her hands drop into her lap and wordlessly leans her head against his shoulder. He tilts his head to meet it, ear pressed against her ice-crusted hair.

In the silence, they push and pull at the ocean together.


End file.
